I Was Only Five
by Let The Foxx Fly
Summary: I was only five and I had no choice but to watch him die. No choice. ** My First One-shot! Pleaze R&R!


**Author Note: **Okay everyone! My first Skulduggery Pleasant ONE-SHOT!! Hope ya like it! Read to the end, cuz it's to do with one well-known awzzum character!  
Foxx.

* * *

I was only five.

The day I saw my brother die was a very hot one. The humidity and stickiness of mid-summer evening air was drenched with fear as _they _came into the house. The door was forced open as a strong gust of wind left the three men standing in our doorway. Mother and father had already departed for their conference meeting down town. I hated that they always left us alone. My brother and I to sleep together yet alone at night. No parents. Always out. I hated them for that.

On that evening, I was awake in bed playing with my teddy bear. I heard the door shut behind whoever entered and immediately cowered. But then, rational thinking took over and I quickly tip-toed towards my older brother's room. I can still clearly remember the dreadful noises as I heard the men rip everything downstairs apart. Who knows what they were there for... or who, but we couldn't fight.

Waking my brother, Zach, we searched around for a place to hide. The cupboard or underneath the bed were too obvious, but we knew our ways around the place. Tugging at the window, my brother managed to quietly slide it open and gestured for me to climb out. Kneeling on the windowsill, I almost fell, as I stretched my leg onto the roof below. Twigs entwined in my legs, but I kept my hold whilst looking back up towards Zach's bedroom window. His eyes sent me a sweet, but for some reason apologetic look. He seemed sad.

Before I could register anything, time sped past as Zach's scream filled the air and he was pulled away from the window. The air was whipped out from my lungs as the tiled roof moved from under me and I fell to the ground below. Zach's screams pierced my ears once again as I lay winded on the cement. Pain belted through me when I attempted to move, but instead, I felt firm hands grip my slightly conscious weak body and haul me up. Then I passed.

Everything became a blur of my brother yelling out my name and movement all around me. I could hear police sirens in the distance, bringing on dread in the strangers' voices. As I recall back to that moment, it seems like it happened yesterday. It seems like I could have changed it all. Though I know it's not, it seems that I let him die.

As my fives sense reapplied themselves to my surroundings, I was strapped to a chair with blindfolds covering every inch of my sight. I could taste blood in my mouth and my left arm felt limp. For a moment I opened my mouth to yell, but I was slapped on the cheek before I got the chance. The blindfold over my eyes was yanked off and my eyes quickly adjusted to the brightness. Zach was strapped to a chair in front of me and he looked exhausted; like he's been screaming at me to wake up.

I could see he was under pain because his handcuffs must have been seriously suppressing his adept abilities. I couldn't be of help because I was too young. Too young to be brought into this world of fighting. I was only 5 years old! The air was thick—too thick as cigar smoke suffocated it. I knew help was coming, but my brother and I were probably hostages. Well that was what I thought. Seems I was the hostage, he was the proof that they weren't joking.

And as I screamed and tried to help him, I couldn't. There was no way these men were letting me escape. I watched, helpless, as a big, buff man held a knife and slowly made a deep cut along my brother's cheek that would leave a scar. It then got worse. After numerous cuts and bruises, I sensed the men give something to the attacker behind my back. I heard a slight click and out of the corner of my eye witnessed a flame. Then the man brought the barbeque lighter down to my brother's face. He screamed in pain and agony, I screamed for him.

At the age of five, I was forced to watch my older brother burn to death.

Luckily, the police were smart enough to give a surprise attack and save me, but I was never saved. It was too late. He was dead. I was dying of the memories. That was until my mother and father came in. Dad kneeled down, grabbed something from the floor beside him and said that I was ready to face the future. As I held the beautiful sword in my hand, all nerves gone, I knew it. From then on, I knew that my name would be _Tanith Low._

And I was only five.


End file.
